Wondergirl
by xoxomadisonbryce
Summary: Everybody has their kryptonite. He was hers.
1. Chapter 1: Who Knew?

_This chapter's song is: _Who Knew?_ By Pink_

* * *

I shot up from my soaked pillow and lifted one shaking hand to my hot forehead. "Fang," I said in a garbled half-sigh, half-sob. I couldn't remember the dream—I never could. But I still had the gist, only from vivid flashes that still replayed in my head. Fang had returned… and he wanted me to take him back.

Never in a million years.

Seven years ago, on that dark night—the only time I cried over him—I promised myself that I would never ever let him back in again; that I would never again let him knock me down when I was weak.

And it wasn't his coming back, really that scared me, (in a way, I wanted him to come back, just so I could kick his ass) it was that I let him back in.

Slowly, I pulled myself from the bed and stood, stretching everything out—arms, legs, neck wings. They'd grown allot in the past few years—now a whole seventeen feet that brushed against each wall of my room.

"Max?" Iggy's voice called from through the door. "What?" I asked back, struggling to keep the sting from my voice. "Breakfast." His footsteps stomped down the stairs and I stood still for a moment, wondering if her knew I'd had the dream again.

With an inward shrug, I went down to the kitchen, where the flock was already gathered around the table. "Nice hair," Angel giggled, big blue eyes meeting mine. I scowled and ran my fingers through it. "Thanks," I said sourly. "Welcome!" she replied with another giggle.

I sat down heavly and shook my head. As plates were passed around, I asked the question that always seemed to get the conversation started. "So. What do we have going on today?" I winced, seeing everybody's mouths open at once.

"One at a time!" I added quickly. I pointed to Angel, and faded out as my schedule played out.

* * *

By the time everyone was done talking, I had the house to myself tonight. Nudge and Angel were going to Ella's birthday slumber party tonight. Dylan and Iggy were hitting the nightclubs. Gazzy was going to a sleepover with a little boy down the street.

And before all that? Dance lessons, play practice, soccer games, baseball games, voice lessons, and softball games. Ugh.

"Okay guys," I said, standing. "We've got a full schedule, and we're leaving and not coming back home all day in fifteen minutes. I want you dressed and ready in ten. With a symphony of scraping chairs, everyone stood and scrambled noisily in opposite directions.

I walked upstairs and pulled on a pair of shorts and a tank-top, then reached into the back of my sweatshirt. I t was only once it was over my head that I recognized it. The smell hit me first—like fresh air and apples. Then the size—extra large. Then the color—black. I stiffened for a moment, my breath shallowing. I wrapped my arms around myself and buried my face in the collar, my eyes squeezed tight. Then I forced them open, squared my shoulders, and went back downstairs.

Dylan looked up at me from the couch, his big turquoise eye flicking from my face, to the sweatshirt and back up again. "Don't say it," I murmured sullenly, holding up one hand.

He shook his head and smiled ruefully. "Okay, Max," he said pityingly, biting his lip. "Dylan," I said sharply. He flinched and lowered his head.

I turned around and yelled up the stairs, "If you aren't down here in thirty seconds, I'm leaving without you!" Almost immediately, I had five bird-kids standing in front of me. I counted heads, "And said, "Let's go." I turned on my heel and marched out to the car indignantly; in true Max style, am I right?

Dylan and Iggy crawled into the backseat of the truck, while the kids slithered into the bad. I know, I know, bad parenting skills. But no worries. It was just to drive down the road to mom's house.

Finally, after three years of dealing with Mr. Chu and Dr. Gunther-what's-his-nuts, we'd bought a huge property a few miles away from mom's old house, paid for by _generous inheritance _from dead _acquaintances, _if you catch my drift. We'd bought the property completely bare, and now, four years later, it had two houses (one for the flock, one for Mom and Ella), a barn, a guest house, an overlarge doghouse, and a heated swimming pool.

I reached into my bag in search of car keys, but instead, my hand wrapped around something flimsy and soft.

A feather. A solid black feather.

With a small gasp, I flung it away, but watched with a disgusting fascination as it fluttered downward and settled on the dash. My eyes flew past it and focused on the distant figure standing on the tree line that bordered the property. With raptor-vision, I could make out dark hair, skin and all-black clothes.

"Fang," I whispered hoarsely. I looked back at Dylan, whose eyes were round and scared-looking. "Is it…?" he paused, and let the question dangle tauntingly in the air between us. "Impossible." I replied.

My chest hurt, and I felt like sobbing. As we watched, the figure spread a pair of dark wings, and took to the skies.

"Impossible." I insisted, knowing very well that it was not.


	2. Chapter 2: White Horse

_This chapter's song is: _White Horse_ by Taylor Swift_

* * *

After we dropped the little kids off with my mom and Ella, Dylan and I searched the skies and the trees in vain, for any clue that the figure we'd seen was Fang, to no prevail. Iggy wanted desperately to help, but honestly, he was no use. The wind in the trees was too loud for him to hear a thing. I felt really bad—he did too. But long ago, I think, he accepted that sometimes, he couldn't do a thing.

After a fruitless hour of searching, we loaded back up in the truck and headed out onto the highway. The ride was silent. None of us had anything to say; I, to be honest, was still stunned silent from the maybe-sighting of maybe-Fang. At least I knew I wasn't hallucinating. Dylan had seen it too. And the feather. _Oh, the feather…_

It was still in my purse, because I'd put it back when we were done looking. Other than the sweatshirt, the letter, the ring, and the frightening image of maybe-Fang, it was all I had left of him. I had to treasure it… I planned on burning it one day.

Really, I do.

We arrived at the baseball field where Dylan's practice and game was to be held, and once again climbed out of the truck. Dylan, bat-bag and equipment in tow, jogged off to warm up with his team.

Iggy and I, habitually, walked to the bleachers, and sat down in the top row. We were wrapped in sweatshirts tightly, leaning against each other comfortably as we talked about anything and everything at all. We were all avoiding the bigger question, by dancing around it in idle conversation; was Fang really coming back? Or was he just trying to lash below the belt by teasing me?

* * *

After the game, bright and happy with all thoughts of Fang forgotten, we got in the car, and headed down the street to get ice cream. As we pulled into the parking lot, and all-black car with tinted windows was hauling out. The window had been down, and was being rolled up as we passed. I glanced over, and found myself, for a fleeting moment, mesmerized with gold-misted obsidian eyes. One eye winked, and then disappeared behind the window.

I froze, recognizing the eyes for a split second, and then reminded my self that it was _impossible…_

I pulled into a spot and climbed out, acting like nothing had happened. That was my job; be strong, and pretend like nothing's wrong.

Boy, was it hard.

* * *

I sat alone in a silent house. My mind was blank; I didn't move. I couldn't. It was like I was frozen in the moment. Images of Fang and his eyes were resurfacing over and over again, swimming mercilessly just beyond my reach. They were far too be reached, too close to forget. No matter what, they didn't go away.

As I sat there, I could feel the room closing in on me, suffocating me, stretching my already heated thoughts to an extreme. I launched myself off the couch and flung open the nearest window. With a nimble jump, I was through the window and falling freely.

My wings snapped out and I shot up ten feet. I landed lightly on the roof. I sat down again, and focused on the distant mountains that made the horizon. After a few minutes, I could feel my mind clearing, and I breathed easy again.

And just as I was about to settle down, a whoosh of wings wounded in the trees, and a few moments later, footsteps beside me.

I knew exactly who it was, without a second's thought. Black-clad legs appeared beside me.

"Yo," Fang's plaintive voice made me senses sharpen, and the whole situation snapped into perspective. _Fang was back, and if I wanted him to be, he could be mine again… _Not that I wanted him back..

"You're thirteen years early, Fang," I said roughly, trying to push back the tears that gathered. "Yeah." He said. "Why?" I replied. He didn't answer, just shrugged. "Why don't you just leave then? Go back to where you came from?" I shot, not bothering to keep the sting from my voice. He drew back slightly.

"So you don't want me back?" he whispered, running his fingers through his hair. "No. Not now, not in twenty years, not ever."

"Why?"

"Because." I whispered, and didn't bother forcing the tears back. "I can't love you like I used to; I can't let myself be that weak ever again."

"So that's it? You think love is a weakness." He said, his voice strengthening. "I know so."

"If that's how you feel…" he mumbled. I finally risked a glance up at him, and found his glittering black eyes sharp on mine.

He was exactly how I pictured him. His sharp face, red puffy lips, and dark overlong hair. And not to mention his eyes—_those eyes…_

I decked him. Right across the face. My fist collided with his face with a satisfying crack, and I knew I'd only bruised his nose, not broken it. Still, it was bleeding heavily. "I guess I deserved that," he huffed, pressing the collar of his shirt to his nose.

"Yeah," I agreed starkly, "you really did." I slid down off the roof, snapped out my wings, and flew away. I couldn't be anywhere near him; no, because if I did, I know I'd fall for him just like I had all those years ago.


	3. Chapter 3: Absolutely

_This chapter's song is: _Absolutely (story of a Girl) _by Nine Days_

* * *

Fang stood quickly, in the hopes of going after her, but he knew it was no use. If she wanted to be caught, she never would've left. But her words stabbed at his heart as he buried his face in his hands. Why, oh, why had he been stupid enough to think that his departure might make things better?

He wasn't going to sugarcoat; he had hoped that his early arrival might make things better. He had pictured her looking up at him in wonder, then running into his arms crying. And he would've held her tight and kissed and made everything better. But he'd only made it worse.

Now Max was angry, hurt and missing. And he was heartbroken, miserable, and rejected. Could things get worse?

Fang slid down off the roof and into the window Max had left open, then followed the first hallway he found. There were eight doors. One was open—Max's room. The light was on, but he knew it was hers from the cleanliness.

It was plain—because that was how Max did it. She didn't get attached to anything. She made everything easier to grab if she had to run. The green bedspread matched the walls and the pillows, but that was all in the room that made it appear anyone was living in it. All the drawers in her dresser were closed. Her closet doors were pulled tight, blinds were drawn. One her desk, her laptop was in its case and her cell phone charger was coiled neatly next to it. Nothing else was on the desk.

The smell really, was the only thing he recognized—like strawberries and watermelon—the soap she'd been using since she was eleven… He could recognize it anywhere.

With an exhausted sigh, he collapsed into the bed, burying his face in the pillow and breathing deeply. He stripped down to his boxers (black, of course!) and crawled under the covers… he would probably regret it the morning, sleeping in her bed. But he didn't care… the smell was just a reminder that she was still alive, that she wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

* * *

"Fang, FANG!" Max's voice filtered into Fang's dreams, and a warm hand shaking his shoulder made his eyes fly open. They instantly alighted on Max's honey-colored eyes which were very, very close to his. He almost kissed her… then remembered that she still hated him. "'Sup?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Fang, why are you asleep in MY bed?" she asked, sighing impatiently. She flicked a piece of wavy brown hair away from her eyes impatiently, and Fang took notice to the new haircut. Long layers-almost to her chest. her bangs fell across her right eye, and were intentionally sharp and ragged, accentuating those sharp cheekbones and upturned amber eyes. Fang frowned, and then looked down at the green blanket covering his legs. He looked back at Max, just in time to see her brown, bloodshot eyes flick down to his bare chest then back to meet his eyes. He saw her blush then swallow hard. Fang smirked. He stood and lowered his lips to her ear.

"Like what you see, babe?" he asked breathily, "Take a picture." He saw Max wince then shiver slightly, her eyes focusing on a point on the blank wall. Fang smirked again. She would cave in no time. "Get away from me," she growled, her eyes narrowing fractionally.

Fang shrugged and walked away, towards the bathroom he'd seen in the hallway the night before. The dazzling smirk remained on his lips—just being back with Max, seeing her face, her eyes, her lips, her _body… _after so long drove him insane, but in the good way.

* * *

"Fang?" Max's small voice broke his thoughts, and the steady silence that had fallen over the house. He was sitting on the couch, clicking away on his latest laptop. She'd been in the kitchen, reading or something…

The other members of the flock had yet to return, save for Dylan and Iggy, who'd returned at about eight-ish. They'd pounded on the door and Max hadn't hesitated on shoving Fang in a closet, then letting them in.

"They're drunk," Max had explained afterwards, "And I don't need them yelling and waking up my mom."

"Hmm?" Fang asked, not looking up from his laptop. "We need to talk." Fang pushed the computer off his lap, he knew this conversation would come up sooner or later.

"Are you staying?" Max asked after a long pause. She perched herself awkwardly on the coffee table opposite the couch he was sitting on. Fang couldn't help but admire for a moment the way her thin tank top had ridden up to reveal her tan, toned belly. He swallowed, then met her eyes again. Fang's head bobbed slightly for a moment, "Can I?" He finally asked, playing it safe. "Yeah, of course," Max answered quickly. "The kids would hate me if I let you go again," Max whispered, hanging her head. "They wouldn't know," Fang pointed out, surprising himself. "Angel." Max replied, and in that one word he understood.

"Then, yes, Max. Absolutely. I'm staying." Fang said. He picked himself up off the couch and stretched. "I'm going to go get my stuff from my car… be back in a few." And with that, Fang was gone.


	4. Chapter 4: Outta Here

_This chapter's song is: _Outta Here _by Esmee Denters_

* * *

Nudge and Angel were the first ones home; that is, not including Iggy and Dylan. "Max?" Angel called tentatively as she pushed open the front door. "Who's car is that in the driveway? Jason's car is red isn't it? That big black thing isn't Jason's is it?" she asked, dropping her bag on the couch. I glanced out the window, seeing the sleek black SUV in the driveway, parked behind Dylan's car. "Put those away," I said sharply, pointing to the jackets, shoes and bags that they'd dropped. "Don't just leave them. "Stop changing the subject!" Nudge said, crossing her arms. "Who's is it?" she insisted.

I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "It's mine," Fang drawled, coming into the living room from the kitchen. Nudge's head whipped around to his directon. Several emotions flashed on her face all at once; shock, anger, fear, pain, hatred. She took a shaky step back. "Why is he here?" she asked, voice shaking with anger. Angel's reaction was altogether different. Her pale face broke into the biggest smile I'd ever seen and she tackled him in a giant hug.

Fang scooped up Angel's fourteen-year-old self and held her tight. "You're early!" she exclaimed. "I missed you!" she trilled, still not letting go of his neck. He smiled softly. "I missed you too." He murmured. Nudge was shaking her head slowly. "I-I'll go put this stuff away," she stuttered, picking up her and Angel's things and hurrying up the stairs. Fang set Angel down and stared after Nudge for a long moment, a pained look on his face. "I'll go," I finally said, and hurried after her.

"Nudge?" I said softly, leaning on the doorway to her bedroom. She was stomping around and—God forbid—cleaning. Well, if being pissed off made her clean her room, then it couldn't be that bad. Nah. That was mean. "Nudge, sweetie," I whispered, grabbing her wrist and stopping her. "What's wrong?"

"He's back." Nudge whispered, her voice sounded choked and broken. She wouldn't look at me, but I knew she was crying. "Max," she whispered, "He's back. Fang's back." She broke down. Her arm slipped from my grasp as she fell to her knees. "He ca—he can't be." She said, sobbing horribly now. I fell to my knees next to her. I wrapped my arms around her—even her eighteen-year-old self was small and scrawny. "Nudge," I said, stroking her hair. "I know you're mad—I know you don't like him right now… but the thing is, he's back." As if we hadn't already established that. "He's back and he still loves you. Nothing's changed, honey." She looked up at me with teary eyes and I felt my heart break just a little bit more.

"Nothings _changed_? Max! It's been seven _damn_ years! _Everything_ has changed."

I sighed and stood, then put an arm down to help her up. "Forgive and forget, Nudge," I said, shooing her back downstairs. I followed a few minutes later and I sat on the couch and read as Nudge, Angel and Fang made up and caught up. Around ten, Dylan shuffled in, clearly hung-over. He looked at Fang with foggy eyes, but made no show of recognition. After he came back from the kitchen with a mug of coffee, he realized what was going on. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed, coming into the living room with his steaming cup. Angle giggled and hugged Fang tighter. "I-I thought… has it been twenty years already?" Dylan asked, and I laughed as Dylan sat down next to me. Fang stiffened slightly and his eyes flicked from me, to Dylan, and back again. I raised a questioning eyebrow at him, but he didn't meet my gaze.

"Language, Dyl," I said, nudging him. "And no—it's only been seven," I added bitterly. He sighed and took another sip of his coffee. "Good… I can't be thirty-four years old…" he frowned. "That would make me feel like a major creep considering Lauren's only seventeen." My eyebrows shot up and Dylan seemed to realize what he'd said. "Who's Lauren?" I asked through gritted teeth. "His girlfriend!" Angel piped up loyally from the other side of the room. "You're dating a _seventeen-year-old girl?"_ I growled, turning towards Dylan. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Fang sag in relief. "And you took her _clubbing_?" Dylan fumbled for an answer, but was saved by the bell—or rather, Iggy.

"Whas' all the yelling about?" he mumbled collapsing on the floor in front of me. "Hey, Iggy," Fang whispered hoarsely. "Who's th—Jason? Is that you?" Iggy asked, scratching his head. "You don't sound right, man." Fang frowned. "What? No. Who the hel—it's Fang, Ig." Iggy stiffened. "Im_poss_ible—That was actually you that Dylan and Max saw?" Fang nodded, then ran his fingers through his disheveled black hair. He seemed to remember that Iggy was still blind and he cleared his throat. "Yeah, Iggy, it was me."

"That's crazy." Iggy said. "I though—twenty?" Iggy rambled in broken sentences. "Go get some coffee, Iggy," I said, struggling not to laugh. "You need it." Iggy thought over this for a long moment then nodded. "That's a… a really good idea." He said, nodding and trundled into the kitchen. "Did Jason get a new car?" Gazzy exclaimed as he burst through the front door. "It's my car." Fang said frowning. "And who is Ja—"

"FANG!" Gasman cried a huge smile breaking over his fifteen-year-old face. "That would be me." Fang said, waving weakly. "What—why—how…?" What is it with us and the speech impediment today? "It doesn't matter." Fang said hoarsely. "But I'm staying."

Iggy scuffled back in and sat down next to Angel. Gazzy, in turn, sat in front of them and the five began to talk—making up, becoming a family again. Dylan looked at me for a long moment, then squeezed my shoulder, got up, and walked away. I want back to my book, but struggled to concentrate. All I could hear were Nudge's ramblings—she hadn't talked like that since Fang left—and Angel's happy laughs—she sounded just like she did way back when she was still a six-year-old sweetheart. Gazzy was excited and bubbly, and Iggy wasn't the usual harsh, brittle self he'd been for the last seven years.

A drop of water hit the back of my hand, where it rested on the page of my book. I blinked and two more fell. My eyes burned with these silly tears—why was I crying? I hated to answer it, but a voice deep inside my heart insisted. I was jealous—jealous that I couldn't put myself together again like them, jealous I couldn't get over it like them, jealous that I couldn't let things go back to the way they once were. I slammed my book down on the coffee table and bolted from the room, knowing with a deep ache in my chest that their conversation hadn't even faltered—they didn't even know I was gone.


	5. Chapter 5: Stab My Back

_This chapter's song is: _Stab My Back_ by All-American Rejects_

_

* * *

_

An hour later, we all settled down at the kitchen table, eating breakfast—Okay, I guess it was more like lunch, considering it was almost noon, but we were eating eggs, and bacon and pancakes… That's got to count for something, right? Today's agenda was thankfully mostly empty—Nudge had a softball end-of-season party at one, and then I'd made plans to go out to dinner with my mom, to show them Fang was back.

"Alright, everyone," I said, as we began clearing dishes. "We're leaving in twenty minutes, be ready to go by then." Nudge put her plate in the sink, and then frowned at me. "Why are we leaving so early? It only takes ten minutes to get to Mallory's, and the party doesn't start for an hour." I smirked at her. "We're picking up Jason, silly." Her frown deepened and her eyes flickered from Fang, to me, and back again. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. I whipped around and looked at Fang for a long moment, as if suddenly realizing he still existed. "They'll have to meet sometime or another." I said, turning back around. Fang, however, looked like a deer in the headlights. "Will someone _please_ tell me who Jason is?" he sounded impatient. Good. Serves him right. _Evil heartbreaking bastard…_

"You'll meet him at the party." I said nonchalantly, without looking at him. "c'mon, Nudge, Ange, let's go get ready." The two skipped ahead of me, happier than I'd ever seen them. I felt that pang of jealousy shoot through me. Why couldn't I ever make them that happy? What was it about Fang that put them all back together? Why did he have the power to tear me to pieces, but bring everyone else closer?

Unspoken, the three of us filed into Nudge's room, Angel and I falling onto her orange-clad bed, and Nudge rifling through her closet, pulling out her spare jersey and a pair of jeans. She stripped off her pajamas and pulled a black under-armor shirt one, chattering all-the-while. "I can't believe Fang's back!" she gushed, pulling on her jeans. Angel migrated over to the vanity and began fiddling with Nudge's makeup stash. Nudge pulled her jersey over her head and examined herself in the mirror. I met her eyes in the reflection and winked. "Hottie," I smirked, making Nudge giggle. But she was—she was beautiful. She'd grown up, she was tall, and she was curvy, with bright black eyes and skin the color hot chocolate, with caramel-colored curly hair down past her shoulders. No longer was it the ratty mane it had been way back when… she'd taken to blow drying it, leaving it soft and curly and natural-looking.

The jersey she wore made he eyes and her hair stand out even more—Caribbean blue, with black studded "Bolts" and a black lightning bolt. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail, and I helped her tie a blue ribbon around it. She applied a little makeup—not nearly as much as she wore to school—a little eyeliner and some mascara, plus a little lip-gloss. "You look fine, Nudge," I said, as she struggled to fix her ribbon. She grinned slyly at me and we went into Angel's room.

Angel's was pink—pink walls, pink carpet, pink bedspread—you name it; it was pink. Angel's clothes were already laid out on her bed. Of course, Angel was going to look adorable—Angel _always_ looked adorable. Angel pulled on a sparkly blue tank top, almost the same color of Nudge's jersey. She pulled black jeans and black sweater, then some black boots. I didn't let Angel wear any makeup—and she certainly didn't mean it. Apparently, the whitecoats had given her the no-acne-perfect-skin-and-super-long-eyelashes gene. And he boyfriend didn't think she needed makeup either, so she didn't argue. "Are you sure it's a good idea to bring Fang _and_ Jason?" Nudge said suddenly, her eyes meeting mine above the magazine she was reading. I paused, blinking. "O-of course." I said quickly, "Why wouldn't it be?" I asked. Nudge raised her eyebrows. "Whatever you say, Maxie."

Angel brushed her hair straight and grinned wolfishly at me. "Time to get you ready, Max!" she said, smirking. "What? No!" I said quickly, "No one, but _me_ is getting me ready!"

"Relax, Max." Nudge giggled. "We won't do anything but brush your hair, won't do your makeup. Just dress you. Please?"

"No dresses, no skirts, right?" I questioned, crossing my arms. "Promise!" Nudge exclaimed, wrapping her pinky around mine.

* * *

I stood in front of my full-length mirror, for once admiring Nudge's work. She held true to her word—I still wasn't wearing any makeup, but she'd brushed my straight hair out, leaving it straight and glossy—I hadn't let Nudge near my head in a long time—but there was no doubt about it, she worked wonders. And no dresses, no skirts either; just jeans and a long-sleeved blue shirt, with a black tank-top underneath. I never really wore this shirt—I was convinced it was too small—it rode up on my belly, usually showing at least an inch of skin. But Nudge made it look okay, with a pair of jeans and a silver belt, black Chucks, and my blue zippered sweatshirt.

"Max, you should dress like this more often," Angle commented, from where she lay on my bed, rifling through my CD cases. "You really do look great, and not even that girly either." Nudge nodded vigorously her agreement as she pinned a few pieces of hair back. "You really do look good. Fang—I mean, Jason—is gonna love it." I arched one eyebrow at her in my reflection. "Fang?" I questioned, scowling. "Sorry," she said quickly, "I meant Jason."

I sighed and stood up. "You guys ready to go?" I asked. Angel reached over to my nightstand and handed me my purse. "Nudge," I said, as I looped it over my shoulder. "Can you drive the car? You take Gazzy and Angel, and whichever friend we're picking up. I'll take Dyl, Ig, Fang, and Jase in the truck."

Angel cracked a small smile. "Are you sure? I think you might suffocate with all that testosterone in the car." I laughed out loud. "Well then you'll have to come save me, won't you?" I mocked, wrapping her up in a hug. She giggled again and we walked back downstairs. The guys were sprawled out on the couch, talking about God-knows-what. "Time to load up," I said, clapping my hands. We filed into the front yard one by one. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of black—black _wings_. "Fang, you idiot," I cried, elbowing him sharply. "Put 'em away. We're driving, stupid." He quickly pulled them back in, but stared at me questioningly. "Around here, we're normal. We're… not the flock." I sighed, realizing he didn't know our fake names, didn't know our 'story'.

"All you need to know is that Dr. M adopted us all a few years ago. You can be… you used to be in the orphanage with us." I supplied quickly, "And you're visiting with us for a little while. And as for the names, you're not Fang, Got it? You're Nick. I'm Mackenzie. Dylan is… Dylan. Iggy is Jeffrey. Nudge is Tiffany. Gasman is Justin, Angel is Angelica. Get it? Got it? Good." I didn't give him time to answer.

A small pause followed. "Mackenzie?" he asked quietly, arching one eyebrow, his lips twitching with a smile. "Yes," I growled. "Got a problem with it?" He shook his head and started to climb into the passenger seat of the truck. I shook my head and jerked my head to the backseat. He sighed and looked at me for a long, exasperated moment. He climbed in. Iggy sat in the middle, probably guessing that Dylan and Fang sitting next to each other probably wasn't wise. The younger kids got into the other car, and we were off.

Ten minutes later, we pulled into Jason's driveway. He wasn't on the porch, where he usually waited. I could almost feel the tension growing in the car, most of it wafting off Fang… what was up with him? I beeped the horn and Jason game jogging out. I smiled at him as he climbed in and leaned over the center console to kiss my cheek. "Hey, beautiful," he grinned, then buckled his seatbelt. I admired for a moment, the way the sun danced on his olive skin, the way it turned his long, dark hair a deep purple.

I couldn't remember exactly why Jason and I started dating… But when I first saw him, I just felt this odd pang of recognition, like I'd known him my whole life. He's looked so familiar, so like something I felt that I'd grown up with—and I'd never been able to figure out what.

"Who's this?" Fang asked, through clenched teeth. I whipped around, as did Jason, who only just noticed Fang sitting just behind him. "F-Nick," I said—I heard Iggy cracking up, and I smiled too, remembering all the Fnick jokes—"This is Jason, my, uh, my boyfriend." Fang stiffened and his face stoned over. "Jason, this is… Nick… He's my… he's my—um, my best friend. He was with us when we were back in the schoo—orphanage. The orphanage."


	6. Chapter 6: True to Me

_This chapter's sing is _True to Me _by Metro Station_

* * *

The tension in the car was unbearable, but Fang was almost positive he was the only one feeling it. Jason-The-Asshole was obliviously chatting up Max—Max was acting like Fang didn't exist. Fang suddenly understood Max's jealousy over his infatuation with Lissa—and then again, his friendship with Brigid. Who had fought for her tooth and nail time and time again? Not Jason. Who had known her his whole life? Not Jason. Who would never leave her… again? Not Jason. Who would give his life for her? Not Jason. Who loved her? Fang did. Not Jason. Fang.

He stared out the window, a bitter expression distorting his features. Jason had tried a few times to strike up a conversation with him—to no avail. He could feel Max shooting daggers at him through the rearview mirror, but he pretended to ignore it. He didn't care if he was being rude, hurting his feelings… He deserved it.

Iggy and Dylan ignored him too—but Jason didn't try to talk to them, and Max wasn't glaring at them. So perhaps he wasn't the only one who hated him. He didn't know about the little kids, but he'd be sure to ask Iggy later…

With a jolt, the truck and the car in front of them that Nudge was driving, pulled into a long winding driveway, adorned with balloons to signal the party sight. Fang climbed out slowly, already dreading what was to become of the day. Fang fell into step easily next to Iggy.

"Hey, Ig—er, Jeff," Fang murmured under his breath, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his black jeans. "Hmm?" Iggy asked, bowing his head down next to Fang's. "Does Jason know about the… wings?" he said, as they walked up the drive. Iggy shook his head. "Nah… Max never told him… um, Mackenzie." He corrected, as they walked up the front steps, the kids a few steps ahead, Max and Jason a few steps back.

Nudge was instantly herded into the backyard for team pictures, and the kids followed. Max almost instantly went after them, guarding her family like she always had. Fang let the ghost of a smile light his face, seeing her so unchanged, yet so different. Jason passed him, headed for the kitchen, rolling his eyes and muttering. Fang heard a snatch of his conversation with himself: "Damn kids…" he swore, practically stomping his feet.

The comment made Fang's blood boil—he had a lot of nerve, saying that about his girlfriend's family. Out of habit, Fang followed Max outside, knowing that just being near her would calm him down. She was leaning on the railing of the patio, making faces at Nudge to widen her smile, but at the same time, her eyes flickered back and forth between Nudge and Angel and Gazzy sitting at the table with a few other kids.

He leaned on the railing next to her and sighed. "They're all grown up," Fang murmured thoughtfully, watching his family—his younger siblings. "Yeah," Max murmured back, bowing her head. "And you missed it." She added bitterly. Fang sucked in a breath so fast it whistled. "Yeah… and I regret it."

Max's head snapped up, and for the first time since the night of his return, she looked him in the eye. Something hopeful lit behind her eyes. "You do?" she asked, arching one eyebrow. Fang nodded, swallowing hard. Were they still talking about the kids? "Good." Max said, and their moment was gone.

They went back to watching the kids, and Max loosened a little, knowing Fang was watching too. A few minutes later, Dylan and Iggy migrated outside, followed by Jase a few minutes after. The players, in the time Max and Fang watched, had finished group pictures and individual pictures, and were doing family pictures.

The coach, holding a clipboard, called out "Tiffany!" and Nudge bounced up to the photo area. The coach said something to her and she smiled hugely. A few seconds later, she was standing in front of Max, babbling.

"Mackenzie!" she cried, "We have to do family pictures!" Max sighed, her eyes flickering between the camera man and Nudge. "Fine." Max sighed, crossing her arms, "Who do you want in it?" Nudge smiled again, but this time, it was a cruel, twisted sneer. "Everyone except Jason," she said coolly, "Even Nick." Jason stiffened, but Fang smirked. "Nudge…" Max warned, sighing, "You can't exclude Jason; you've known him for almost three years—he's practically your brother."

Nudge's face turned stony. "He's. Not. My. Brother." She ground out. Fang had a feeling that Max and Nudge had had this conversation many times before. "And. He. Won't. Be. In. My. Pictures." She added. "Let's not make a scene, alright?" Fang swooped in, wrapping an arm around Nudge's shoulders. "These are her pictures—she gets to chose." Max sighed and looked up at the sky. "Fine." She said, throwing her arms up.

* * *

The ride home was tense, but Fang felt better then he had all day. Jason and Max weren't talking, and since Max and Fang's moment earlier, she was acting more like the Max he once knew—acting more like his best friend.

Fang allowed for a small smile, leaning his head against the grubby truck window, pretending to listen to Iggy's useless chatter—red wires and green wires and blue wires, blah, blah, blah—who cared anyways?

Once they dropped Jason off, Max lightened up, and talked to them, making jokes and teasing them like she used to. Fang climbed into the front seat for the remainder of the drive—and Max talked to him like he was an actual person—rather than a shriveled up piece of lettuce or moldy cheese. More and more, as the minutes passed, Fang could see the pieces of Max he'd left behind, coming back together and more and more, he could feel the pieces of himself piecing together as well.


	7. Chapter 7: Sick Little Games

_This chapter's song is _Sick Little Games_ by All Time Low._

_

* * *

_

Nudge fished in my jewelry box, and pulled out a blue and sliver necklace. She lifted it over my head and let it settle on my shoulders. She'd redressed me for dinner with mom and Ella—I was wearing the same shirt and belt, but I'd traded my jeans and Chucks for black tights, gray boots, and a denim skirt (one of the three skirts I owned). She passed me a leather jacket, and dark blue hat, scarf, and gloves.

I swear, Nudge has, like, magic fingers of or something. She'd washed my hair, then put some spray stuff in it, then blow-dried it. When she was done, I had curly hair—not as curly as hers, the curls were a little softer and not quite so cork-screw. I don't know how she did it, to be honest. Those magic fingers. The no-makeup-on-Max- rule was only ever broken when it came to my mom. At Total's wedding, she'd made a comment about how I looked with makeup on, and her words had stuck ever since. And even then, it wasn't a lot. Some eyeliner and mascara, sometimes lip gloss.

"You look really good, Max," Nudge said, pinning a few faces off my face, then pulling them back and doing it a different way, before finally leaving my head alone. "You should wear skirts more often." I glanced at her skeptically. "I mean it!" she cried, crossing her arms over the front of her green shirt. "Would I lie to you?" she squeaked, frustrated. "No, I guess not." I sighed.

Nudge opened her mouth, but whatever she was going to say was cut off by the buzzing of my cell phone. I glanced at her and fumbled with the zipper on my jacket. "Can you answer that?" I asked, then swore and pulled my gloves off, then zipped the jacket up and pulled my gloves back on.

Nudge retrieved the buzzing mobile, and her pert nose wrinkled in distaste as she scanned the caller ID. "Ass…" I heard her murmur, before pressing the call button and holding the phone hesitantly to her ear. "Tiffany, give me the phone." I said, whipping around, knowing from her expression and her words that it was Jason. Their banters were never pleasant, and an dispute always ensued.

"Hello?" Nudge said in a toxic, yet heavily saccharine tone. A precarious tone—one I knew very well. There was a hiatus and Nudge rolled her brown eyes. I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest. Nudge flicked her eyes at me then back at the fingernail she was examining, and it became evident she was not giving up the phone. I sighed and turned back to the mirror. "Obviously not, considering I answered the phone. Can you say 'Duh'?" Nudge's errant voice pealed into the phone.

"Tiffany!" I said stridently, glaring at her. She didn't respond. "No, you certainly can't. She's getting ready to go out." Pause. "To dinner. With her family. And before you ask, no you can't come with us." A rueful, contemptuous laugh escaped her full, glossy lips. She pushed her hand through her curly hair and then went back to her nails. "Because A) it's kind of rude to invite yourself, and you do it all the time and B) none of us like you but her."

"Tiffany, give me the phone, please." I pleaded, turning back around and holding my hand out expectantly. She scooted back on the bed, out of my reach. "Yes, it's perfectly true. Your ego is just too big for you to apprehend—perhaps someone should pop it—I'd be glad to do the honors."

"What do I me—God, you are so stupid." She screeched, infuriated. "Your ego, you freakin' idiot, I'm gonna pop—oh, forget it." She was beginning to look really overwrought. "You have a lot of nerve, saying that to your girlfriend's little sister, you know that? I've got Dylan, Jeff, Nick _and_ Justin on my side. So you need to keep your big mouth shut."

"Tiffany!" I finally bellowed, leaping toward her and pinning her down on the bed. Chuckling, she spoke in the phone, besieged to keep out of my reach. "Nope, Mackenzie still isn't here. And you still aren't invited. BYE!" She slammed her thumb down on the end button, then looked up at me, doe-brown eyes wide and innocent-looking. "You are so dead," I growled, wrenching the phone from her hands, and walking away from her, tightening my fists in order not to turn around and strangle her. "Max—I…" she trailed off and I didn't turn around.

I swung my purse over my shoulder and swung my door open. I paused for a moment, hearing Nudge speak up. "I'm doing you a favor, Max." she said. Her voice sounded diminutive and hushed—vulnerable. But I still didn't turn around. I kept walking, head held high. That was me. Headstrong and confident.

"Um. What was that about?" Iggy asked as I emerged into the living room. "It was Nudge and Jason." I said huffily, grabbing my car keys. "Oh." was all Iggy said, in understanding. "Guys! Let's go!" I yelled, tapping my fingers against the island surface impatiently. A moment later, my flock was assembled in front of me, each one dressed up for dinner.

Angel was in a pink dress, all lace and bows and polka-dots—it was as if she was still that naïve seven-year-old girl clutching the ragged teddy-bear in her skinny, bruised arms. Except, now she was holding a purse and a cell phone. I had brow-beaten Gasman into a button-down shirt, but none of his ties fit anymore. I'd let him wear jeans, but he wasn't fond of the dress shoes I'd made him wear.

Nudge was wearing a dress also, but hers was blue, adorned with a black sash, and paired with black sandals and a black sweater. Dylan and Iggy were wearing practically the same outfit in different colors—they almost always were. Polo shirts, cardigans, and jeans. Iggy in a blue shirt and a black cardigan, Dylan in a striped green and blue shirt with a white sweater. Fang was in—all black, of course. Dark skinny jeans, dark grey t-shirt and a black blazer.

His obsidian eyes were level on mine, watching me carefully, as if I was a bomb about to blow. Which, after the incident between Nudge and I, I kinda was.

I cleared my throat and reached out to smooth Gazzy's hair down, out of habit. For once, he didn't jerk away. I clasped my hands behind my back. "Ready?" I finally asked, and after a round of nods and murmured yeses, we headed outside, where Mom was already waiting in her car at the end of our driveway, Ella climbing out of the passenger seat and came to hug me. I sped up and greeted my mom, hugged her quickly, but her eyes were intent on the house.

Fang was standing on the front porch, his back to us as he closed the door. "You didn't tell us Jason was coming." Ella said tersely, crossing her arms over her chest. "What? It's not Jason…" I said, biting my lip. Fang turned around and my mother's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, my God, " she murmured, eyes wide. "Fang!" Ella yelled, stumbling across the grass to him, and wrapping him in a huge hug. I smirked as he stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure what to do. Finally he wrapped one tentative arm around her shoulder, looking at me, and awkward look on his face.

I struggled not to laugh as Ella jerked back, realizing just who she was hugging—Mr. Emotionless. Mr. Rock. Mr. Too-Cool-For-Hugs.

I giggled at her painful smile. "Sorry," she said, "I forgot." Fang cracked a smile and Ella looked taken aback. "It's alright, El," he said, "Good to see you too."


	8. Chapter 8: Dance in the Dark

_This chapter's song is _Dance in the Dark_ by Lady GaGa._

* * *

The ride to the restaurant was awkward, to say the least. I was crammed into the middle row between Fang and Dylan, and I was struggling not to make any sort of contact with the bastard, but it was hard. It wasn't easy around Dylan either—even though we'd managed to avoid the whole imprint deal, I knew it was hard for him, being around me. Of course, I think Lauren helped. I could feel Fang's dark eyes flickering to me every few seconds and they lingered there. He knew that I knew—he wanted me to look back, but I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.

Nudge, who sat in the seat behind me, managed to keep up a constant chatter, filling the silence that seemed to be pressing in on everyone's nerves. At the one moment I tuned in, she happened to be discussing with Angel whether or not sparkly lip-gloss was appropriate for day-wear. I didn't listen to her again until we got to the restaurant. My mother's eyes seemed to find mine every once in a while, probing with concern and curiosity. The silence released me from its strangling hold as we tumbled out of the van like a great sigh of relief and bounced into the building.

We'd been coming to this place every Sunday night since I'd moved to Arizona with my mom. They had good, cheap food and a good DJ on the weekends. Everyone in my mother's small town seemed to know each other, so the kids were guaranteed to see a friend, and I got to see what few I had. And hopefully, it would be a good release from the suffocating tension. "Mackenzie, what should I get?" Nudge babbled, peering across the table at me over her menu. "Um…" I said, frowning as she jerked me ungracefully out of my cloud of thought. "Ribs," I said without thinking, "Get the ribs." She scowled at me, her heavily lined eyes rolling in exasperation. "Don't be silly—too messy." She scoffed, brushing a curled piece of hair off her forehead. I made a face at her. "Well pardon me," I said, but Nudge was already pestering Gazzy. I looked up from my menu and took a fleeting glance across the room.

Fang's endless eyes were piercing into mine, a small smile on those full lips. A chill ghosted up my spine at his smile, and a shot of longing coursed through me. That rare smile was one of the things I had missed most of him. I felt my lips curling into a smile too, and I dropped his gaze, shaking my head slightly. Once food was ordered, Ella wrapped her arm around my waist and was dragging me into the other room, which housed the dance floor and the DJ. Of course, Iggy followed Ella and Dylan got up also, probably in search of Lauren. Fang came too, following… me?

I shook the thought off and searched for Jace in the throng of teenagers and twenty-somethings. Nothing. I pushed into the pulsing crowd in search of a familiar face and found a group of kids that I knew lived nearby. "Hey," I said, finding the face of a girl I knew the best. "Jessica, right?" I asked, slipping into the circle next to her. She nodded and a grin split her face, her straight, white teeth glowing purple in the black lights. "Yeah," she said excitedly. "You're Mackenzie." She slurred. It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyways. "Dance with me, boo," she said, grabbing one of my wrists and twirling me in a circle. I grinned and let her lead as we spun and jumped and twirled, until the music itself washed over me, and I couldn't remember anything. Two boys stole up behind us, one leading Jessica away, the other giving me a slight smile and pulling me to the bar.

"You drink?" he asked, looking at me with clear silver eyes. I almost shook my head, then I found Fang staring at me through the crowd, his black eyes intense and flickering in the lights. "Tonight I do," I said, tearing my eyes away from Fang and giving Mystery Boy a small smile. He said something to the bartender that I couldn't hear, and a second later, two shot glasses were in front of us. I grabbed the closest one and tipped it back, before looking over to see Fang headed my way, pressing through the pulsing crowd with ease, his smirking eyes never leaving mine. "Wanna dance?" Mystery boy asked, gesturing to the floor. "Sure," I said with a small smile as I felt the alcohol flood my mind. The lights became a little less headache-inducing and a little more intense. The noise grew a little bit fuzzier, but I felt like every nerve ending in my body was on a live-wire. And suddenly the kid's hand was pulled from mine, and I didn't even care.

Didn't even care when I found myself face to face with Fang. His tan hands rested on my hips, thumbs slipping beneath my shirt, holding me to him. It didn't even cross my mind that this would end badly. I threw my arms around his neck and allowed my self to dance with him. I mean, it was just Fang… what could go wrong? He was my best friend, right? My… ex-boyfriend. No big deal, right? And then I was staring at Fang, searching his obsidian eyes for any clue as to what was going on. They, of course, held nothing. His shaggy black hair was hanging over his eyes, and it was just so, _so_ sexy and…

He was staring at me too, I realized with a start. His head loomed over mine—I had always cursed the six inches he had on me—his eyes were intense and flashing in the lights as he leaned down. "Fang," I whispered, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. "What?" he asked, his gaze unwavering. "What are you doing?" I asked brokenly, but my words were cut off as his lips brushed across mine, ever so slightly. And in that second, my heart stilled and dropped through the floor. I could hear nothing, taste nothing, see nothing but Fang.

_Fang. _I realized with a jolt who I was kissing, and all the pain welled up inside me and I jerked away. Fang who had slammed my heart into the floor and left me to die. I couldn't love him. Not anymore. "Don't do this to me, Fang," I said jaggedly, my breathing heavy and my heart still pounding. "Do what?" he asked quietly, peering at me from under his thick eyelashes. "Don't break me again," I said, then disappeared through the crowd and out the back door. I leaned on the railing of the back porch, and took in big, greedy mouthfuls of cool March air. I ran my fingers through my hair several times, as I struggled to get my racing heart back to normal.

After a few minutes of silence, Angel's voice cut into my thoughts.

"_Max? Dinner's here."_

_**Coming. **_I sent back weakly, then headed back to the table. Fang was sitting at the other end of the table like nothing had happened, but he wouldn't look at me. I sat in my seat heavily, pasted on a smile, and tried to eat. But I couldn't. My stomach was in too many knots, and my throat was dry and painful. I pushed my food away, after a few minutes, and didn't speak for the rest of the night.


	9. Chapter 9: Too Much

_This chapter's song is _Too Much_ by All Time Low_

* * *

"_You say that I'm messing with your head_

_All 'cus I was making out with your friend_

_Love hurts whether it's right or wrong_

_I can't stop, 'cus I'm having too much fun_

_You're on your knees, begging please,"_

I groaned, as Avril Lavigne blasted from my cell phone. Jason. I just was not in any mood to talk to him after what happened last night with Fang. But then Nudge was bursting through my door with a scowl on her features. "Jesus, Max," she said, yanking the covers off me. "Answer it already!" I glared at her for a long moment, and then reached over to grab it.

"_All my life, I've been good, but now-"_

"_What _Jason?" I hissed, as I pressed my phone to my ear. "Don't be so _rude_," he snapped. "Sorry," I mumbled, swinging my feet around and sitting up. I flicked my eyes up at Nudge, and then glanced at the door. With an eye roll, she, thankfully, left the room. "But you woke me up."

"Max, it's almost ten; you should be out of bed by now." I gritted my teeth, and a scowl weaseled its way onto my face. "Who are you, _my father?"_ I snapped, crossing my arms. "Max!" Jason exclaimed, sounding very annoyed. I resisted the urge to hang up on him. I couldn't remember a time that he'd gotten on my nerves like this. Something about him was just _really _pissing me off today. _"What?"_ I yelled back, and the line was silent for a moment. "I was going to see if you wanted to go out to lunch or something today, but it's obvious you're in a bad mood, so I'll leave you alone." The tell-tale beeping informed me that he'd hung up, and instantly, I felt guilty. I could never figure out how he did that. He just had a way of making me feel bad.

I threw my phone down on the bed with an angry snarl. "Violent much?" a smooth voice quipped from the doorway. My head snapped up to see Fang, leaning against the door frame, a very cocky smile on his face. "What do you want?" I snapped. Because I wasn't mad enough. And then stupid Fang with his stupid voice and his stupid heart throbbing smile and his stupid sexy hair had to come in and make it worse.

Very mature, yes I know.

Fang's smile grew wider, and his eyebrows shot into his hairline, which only succeeded in infuriating me more. A small part of my mind told me that this was exactly his intention. "Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he sang mockingly, and my jaw clenched. "Look, Fang," I said darkly, glaring at him for all he was worth. "I am so _not _in the mood for you and all your _bullshit _so _get out!" _My voice went up an octave, as I yelled the last part, and Fang's cocky smirk fell, only to be replaced by a look of anger. And for a sick, twisted moment, I was proud of myself. "Fine," he said flatly, and then disappeared. And again, the guilt washed over me like a tidal wave. It was turning into a game.

"_Step right up and have your patience tested! The longer it takes for Max to push you away, the bigger prize you get!"_

I let the shame settle, and then I stood and headed downstairs "What did Jason want?" Nudge asked nonchalantly as I took my place at the table. I shrugged, "I don't know. He hung up on me." Nudge looked at me with surprise written plainly on her face. "Why?" she pressed, eyes wide. I shrugged again. "Because I pissed him off, I guess." Now, Nudge looked pleased. "Are you guys going to break up?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

I stared at her.

"_I don't know," _I snapped, and instantly Nudge looked down and I felt bad. "Sorry," she squeaked, fiddling with her fork. I sighed. "No, _I'm_ sorry I snapped at you. I'm just in a bad mood." Silence. "It's okay, Max," Nudge finally sighed. It was silent again.

Slowly, the rest of the flock trickled in. Angel, Gazzy, Fang, and Dylan. Nudge happily engaged in a conversation, but I kept my mouth shut, afraid I'd lash out again. Iggy came into the dining room, balancing a bowl of eggs, plate of bacon, and two casserole dishes of cinnamon rolls.

Noiselessly, I served myself, and ate in mild tranquility. I didn't want to disturb the peace that had been formerly disrupted by yours truly. Slowly, everyone finished, and headed into other parts of the house, leaving me by myself. I was zoned out, staring blankly at the corner of the table, as my thoughts hummed uselessly.

The sound of the garage door opening made me break my stare and look up. My mother, followed by Ella, walked into the kitchen. "Hi, Max," mom sad as she passed, pausing to touch the top of my head lightly. "Hey, Maxie-Poo," Ella cooed, plopping herself down in my lap goofily as she wrapped her arms around my neck. She leaned against me, a silly smile on her face. "How old are you?" I asked, laughing as I shoved her. "I-" she began, and then, "OW!" interjected her sentence as she crashed into the tiled floor.

"Oopsies," I said, matching her childish tone. She glared at me, and stood slowly, rubbing her back. My mother had watched the whole exchange with a rather amused smile, and she finally said, "If you two are finished," and set down her purse and keys on the counter.

I grinned wolfishly at mom, and Ella pulled out a chair and sat down. "Who's screaming?" Dylan asked breathlessly, appearing in the doorway breathlessly. I rolled my eyes, "Ella tripped," I said, winking at my half-sister, who scowled. "Go get everyone else Wonderboy," Dylan smiled, saluted me, then headed back into the living room.

In two minutes, everyone was seated at the table again, except for my mother, who remained at her post leaning on the counter. A quick glare silenced my chattering flock and I slumped back against my chair, pulling my knees up against my chest. "Good morning," mom said cheerfully, the crows' feet at her eyes crinkling as she smiled at us. I watched as her eyes landed on Fang and her smile faltered. Fang noticed too, guilt flashing in his eyes momentarily and the tension between his shoulder blades strengthened.

And then Fang's head turned, looking at me head-on from the other end of the table. My breath caught at the intensity in those gold-flecked eyes that never failed to make my heart pound. I saw the message so clearly in his eyes and I felt tears pricking at the back of my eyes. _I'm sorry_ his orbs spoke, so clear like daylight, like he hadn't been gone for so long. Like we were one person again.

Lip between my teeth, I turned away, my heart still pounding painfully and my eyes still stinging. I saw Fang turn away in my peripheral but the pricking on the back of my neck told me someone else was staring at me. I dropped my eyes down to Angel who was seated next to me, her big blue eyes wide with questions and her fair eyebrows raised. I smiled wanly at her, feeling great relief as the tears subsided.

I didn't even try to hide it from Angel. There was no point. I knew she'd seen the whole exchange, and in any case, there was no hiding anything from a mind-reading fourteen-year-old. I shrugged nonchalantly and Angel looked away, reminding me that my mother was here and talking to us, and I'd ignored the whole thing.

"…I've decided that we're going to take a family trip to California for a week. All you guys do is home school, sports, eating, and sleeping. We need a break." My mom said happily, and suddenly, the kitchen went up in excited bird-kid yells.


End file.
